


Toss a Coin to Your Chargers

by codenametargeter



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Krem is so tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenametargeter/pseuds/codenametargeter
Summary: When a bard tumbles out of one of those green rifts the Inquisitor is always closing, the Iron Bull agrees to let him tag along with the Chargers.Krem is not happy.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	Toss a Coin to Your Chargers

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when a friend asks me "who would Jaskier write songs about in Dragon Age?" and my brain answers and runs with it.

“Chief, are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am, Krem-de-la-krem! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Krem rolled his eyes, sighed, and then squeezed his heels into his mount’s sides to urge her into a trot to avoid hearing any further explanation. It had been three weeks since the Chargers had gone out with the Inquisitor to investigate a rift in the Hinterlands and come back with a surprise in tow. Technically, they had accompanied Inquisitor Trevelyan to the Hinterlands because Krem and the Iron Bull had agreed the men could use a chance to stretch their legs. It’d been a while since they’d had a good fight and it never went well when the Chargers were idle for too long. The last time it’d happened, an entire tavern in Nevarra had ended up as collateral damage and they hadn’t been able to go within twenty leagues of that town ever since. 

The point was that the Hinterlands was supposed to have been a good thing for them. Rifts weren’t exactly fun but they were at least known quantities at this point judging by the Inquisitor’s reaction when a runner came back with word of one. So the Chargers had armed up and marched out there to fight alongside the Herald of Andraste and found one hell of a surprise. No, not the demons but rather the brightly dressed young man who came tumbling out of the portal with nothing but the clothes on his back and a lute. 

His name was Jaskier and he claimed to have most recently been somewhere in a place named Redania which, unsurprisingly, wasn’t on any map of Thedas. Despite some initial misgivings, they’d dragged him and his lute back to Skyhold with them so Sister Leliana could interrogate him and investigate his story with the aid of some of the others in the Inquisitor’s inner circle. The Bull had been one of them. Unfortunately. 

One of the best and also the worst things about the Iron Bull was his ability to size someone up within a few minutes of meeting them. In Krem’s case, it had worked out pretty well minus the whole eye thing. He just really really wished it hadn’t worked out so well in the bard’s case too. If they had to have a bard following them around trying out snippets of new songs, he would’ve preferred Maryden but no one had asked him.

Instead they had Jaskier.

Jaskier who always sat far too close to Krem’s corner of the Herald’s Rest and strummed his lute, singing under his breath. Jaskier who irritated him for some reason he couldn’t quite pin down. Jaskier who everyone else in the tavern seemed to like.

“Hey Dandelion!” the Bull said in his usual jovial manner. “Written anything new yet?”

“Genius doesn’t just happen!” the bard protested.

“So that’s a no?”

“You’re rushing me.” Despite that, he cleared his throat, strummed a chord, and then began to sing. “ _When a humble bard / Graced a ride along / With the Iron Bull’s Chargers / Along came this song / From where the Chargers fought / A green tinged rift / A bard it expelled / With demons quite swift_ …” He trailed off and frowned. “I haven’t got it quite right though. I think it needs less me…”

Krem dropped his face into a hand even as the Iron Bull grinned. “Hey, that’s not bad! Kinda catchy even.”

“It better be!” At the Bull’s questioning look, Jaskier grinned. “All I did was rework some lyrics from another song I wrote which, I’ll have you know, at least half the towns were singing.”

“Wait. We’re getting someone else’s song?”

The bard sighed loudly and looked upwards, speaking to the ceiling. “Everyone’s a critic. I’m going to need more ale if I’m going to think of something new.”

As the Bull made fresh tankards appear on the table for all of them, Krem had to admit that the tune was kind of catchy. Maybe Jaskier wasn’t all that bad after all.

He had regrets about that particular thought several weeks later. Lots and lots of regrets. Almost all of them stemmed from how Jaskier apparently had ignored his own self-critique and doubled down on his previous idea while trying to think of a good new song and now he couldn’t go _anywhere_ without hearing _someone_ humming the stupid thing. Like right now when singing absolutely should not have been happening.

“ _At the end of the world  
_ _Fight Corypheus’s horde  
_ _That bashes and breaks you  
_ _And brings you to mourn_

 _They wipe out the rest  
_ _Take a load off of your chest  
_ _They’re a friend of humanity  
_ _So give them the best_

 _That's my epic tale:  
_ _Our champions prevailed  
_ _Defeated the villain  
_ _Now pour them some ale_

 _Toss a coin to your Chargers  
_ _O' Valley of Plenty  
_ _O' Valley of Plenty, oh_  
 _Toss a coin to your Chargers  
Friends of humanity!_”

Krem slammed his war hammer against the ground. “Are we training or are we singing?”

The Chargers exchanged looks amongst themselves before Dalish shrugged and said, “Both?”

The Iron Bull laughed, the sound a loud rumbling that bordered on thunder. Usually, he liked hearing it but not today even when the qunari clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a good tune, Krem Puff.”

“It was two weeks ago.”

Sometimes, it was infuriating how Bull was rarely visibly bothered by things. “We’ll go with the Boss when she heads to the Emprise du Leon next week. We’ll just have to do something suitably heroic to give Jaskier some inspiration!”

For a week, Krem was slightly less grumpy because he had hope. 

And then the Emprise didn’t help things. In fact, it got worse before it got better and Jaskier’s strumming and unresolved chords didn’t help the matter. 

It turned out that Tevinters definitely weren’t meant for the Southern cold but Krem forced himself to keep his own complaining to a minimum because Dorian was doing enough for both of them with his usual flair. Krem hated the cold and he hated the ice and he hated the snow almost as much as he hated fighting the giant hanging around Suledin Keep. 

And it all happened while hearing snippets of that same irritating tune being hummed by members of the Inquisition every-damn-where they went. 

By the time they got back to Skyhold, Krem thought he was going to lose it. It was why he’d drunk at least one more tankard of ale than he should’ve that night and it wasn’t helping that Jaskier always sat so damn close to him despite the Herald’s Rest having three whole floors to choose from. Finally, he slammed one of those half empty tankards down and asked, “Why are you here?” 

Jaskier didn’t look up from his instrument. “Your Chief invited me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

His only response was to strum a chord that sounded somewhat questioning. 

“I mean here with the Chargers. If you want to write heroic songs, the Herald of Andraste is,” Krem pointed towards the door, “that way. She’s pretty good at the heroics.”

“Can’t.”

“Can’t?”

“It’s bad form to steal a subject from a fellow bard,” Jaskier said, finally looking up. He actually looked a little bit offended. 

Krem’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think Maryden considers herself to have a stake.” 

“No, I mean Varric.”

“He’s an author, not a bard.”

“The only thing _Tale of the Champion_ is missing is a tune.”

“You’ve been in Thedas all of two months and you already read _Tale of the Champion_?”

Jaskier grinned and sketched a bow. “A humble bard must know his competition.”

His head was starting to hurt. “So why aren’t you following Trevelyan around? I mean, why are you following Bull around?”

“Because the songs just about write themselves. Have you taken a look at yourselves?” Jaskier waved one hand grandly towards the ever increasing number of Chargers in the tavern, warming to his subject. “A motley bunch if I ever saw one.”

Shoulders tensing, Krem tried not to frown and failed. “We’re mercenaries, not Orlesian courtiers.”

Jaskier shook his head rapidly. “It’s not a bad thing. You’ve got color! You’ve got character! The Inquisitor… oh she’s heroic but she’s…” He glanced around furtively and whispered, “ _boring_.”

If Krem had needed more proof that something wasn’t quite right with this bard, there it was. It wasn’t like he knew Lady Trevelyan well but she’d always been polite and greeted him with a smile when they’d crossed paths around first Haven and now Skyhold. And he’d been there at Haven and seen her take a stand against first the Templars and then Corypheus himself. _Boring_ was the last word he’d use to describe her.

“It’s not bad,” the bard was still talking, “but if you’re going to fall through some magic portal into a different world and write songs about it, you want them to be different. The Iron Bull is different.”

“I thought you said there were more than just humans where you’re from.”

“We don’t have any qu-” He frowned, stumbling at the unfamiliar word.

Krem helped him. “Qunari.” 

“Qunari. Usually I’d shove Geralt towards him and run the other way. That would’ve made for a good story. I’m thinking a drinking song that starts with them fighting and ends with them drinking.”

“Who’s Geralt?” Krem asked. Despite everything, he was starting to dislike the man a fraction less. Not much but at least a little bit. 

Jaskier flinched and then forced a smile. “A friend. Or at least he was. Who knows with this whole--” he waved grandly again, “--portal thing.” 

He really really wanted to ask a follow up but years in Tevinter had given him far too much experience being on the end where one didn’t want to talk about something so he kept the questions to himself. “So have you started an actual new song about the Chief yet then?”

He straightened ever so slightly, clearly glad for the change in topic. “Oh I’ve got a few lines.”

Krem gestured towards the lute with his tankard. “Well?”

Both of the bard’s eyebrows shot upwards at the challenge and he rose to his feet, stepping towards the center of the Rest. “Would you mind?” he asked Maryden. “Just for the one song.”

Maryden shook her head. “Only if someone here buys me a drink while you sing.”

Within a few bars, Jaskier had most of the Chargers’ attention. The new song starred the Iron Bull, just like Krem had suspected, but the bard didn’t neglect to single others other members of the company with both praise and humor. It was a catchy tune that he was pretty sure was going to get immediately worked into their rotation of drinking songs.

By the time he was done, even Krem had to admit that maybe the Chief hadn’t been completely wrong to let Jaskier tag along. The Chargers, apparently, could use all types. Even a bard. 


End file.
